The tale of Grimslarkin
by fireprooflawyer
Summary: A story about a lich who will stop at nothing to have his revenge. A little darker than my other stuff, but hopefully just as good, maybe even better.
1. Chapter 1

The Tale of Grimslarkin

**Hello again, I've decided to write another fan fiction**

**This doesn't mean I'll stop writing Story of a sarcastic dragon born, I'll do both.**

**This is the tale of a lich called Grimslarkin who is hell bent on getting revenge on the people who wronged him, and if he gets to kick some ass along the way, even better.**

**It probably won't be as funny as my other stuff, but I won't make it too serious.**

**Grim's story may even tie into Marlow's…**

**Enjoy **

**Chapter one: A very grim situation**

It's a fact of life that everyone has to die, no exceptions.

Some people try to avoid it, to delay the inevitable, but they are all doomed to fail.

One such method is to become a lich. An ancient powerful spell, the soul is bound to the body of the deceased and depending on the success of the spell; the lich will become undead while still retain at least some intelligence.

The lich will lose everything but their bones, and all that remains is a skeleton. A shadow of the person they once were.

Liches are very skilled in necromancy and many other forms of dark magic. When a lich is damaged, it can repair itself, and it can travel in and out of Sovngarde as it pleases.

Liches live for a very long time, some for thousands of years, but even they cannot last forever.

This is the tale of one such lich, one who will stop at nothing to have his revenge…

The glow of the moon gives the old crumbling ruins an eerie feel, the mist covering the surrounding area like a blanket. Owls hoot and sabre cats prowled, mudcrabs scuttle and deer dart through the forest.

And the Necromancers chant.

There are twenty of them in total; they stand in a circle surrounding a crumbling ruin. Their heads are bowed and their hands held out in front of them. They hold their palms angled towards a large slab of stone carved into the basic shape of an altar. Purple energy flows from their fingertips wrapping around the altar, filling it with black magic.

One of their number, a man in his early thirties, with a wild mop of brown hair and dark green eyes brakes away from the circle, his energy spent. His gaunt face is drenched in sweat; he makes his way over to some of the other necromancers who have stopped to rest and are muttering to each other. He approaches and they turn to look at him "Gentlemen." He greets nodding in their general direction.

"Greetings Grim, can't go on huh?" The man, his name Grim slumps to the ground and says "Yeah, this kind of thing takes a lot out of you, what we are preparing the altar for any way?"

One of the other necromancers, a man around the same age as Grim with long blond hair sneers at him "What, they didn't tell you. Everyone else was briefed hours ago; we're using the altar to create a lich. I wonder why they didn't tell you, maybe they did but you weren't listening, as usual.

The others laugh, and Grim visibly tenses "Shut it Tannis."

Tannis and the others laugh even harder "Or what, are you going to make me. The state you're in you probably couldn't even manage a magelight, never mind something that could actually hurt me.

Grim rises angrily, his fists clenched and his eyes narrowed "I don't need magic to beat you." He growls.

Tannis stands as well, his arms raised in mock horror "Oh please no, don't hurt me." He cries mockingly. Grim lunges towards him, but is blasted backwards as Tannis punches him in the gut, purple fire covering his fist.

Grim slams into a large oak, his head smacking against the hard trunk. His vision goes blurry as Tannis swaggers towards him. He reaches inside his black robes and pulls out and ornate knife, the blade flashing silver in the moonlight.

Tannis is has a dark look in his eyes, but he's smiling as he advances on Grim. Grim tries to call for help but the other necromancers are either too busy with the altar or just don't care. In fact, Grim can even hear some of them cheering Tannis on.

He's on his own.

"You know why they didn't tell you what we're doing here. We needed a body to turn into a lich, someone to sacrifice themselves, and we all voted you."

Grim groans as he tries to rise, but his legs feel numb; he can barely lift his arms. "The word sacrifice implies the person chooses give up his life, you're not giving me much of a choice."

This only makes Tannis smile more widely "True, but sacrifice sounds cool. Goodbye Grim, don't worry, no one will miss you." Tannis crouches down in front of Grim and presses the knife to his throat "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this." he says.

Grim snarls at him and spits in his face.

Tannis screams with rage and slashes the knife across Grim's throat. His eyes widen and he claws at his throat. He gurgles and thrashes around as he slowly bleeds out, eventually he slumps forward.

Dead

Two necromancers come forward and pick up the body, they carry it between them over to the altar and lay it spread eagled across it. They then join the circle; the chanting becomes faster, the purple energy converging on the corpse. It floats slowly upward, stopping about three feet off the ground.

The body suddenly bursts into flames, its flesh consumed by the black fire.

The intestines and organs turn to ash, leaving only a gleaming white skeleton.

Runes caved into the ground begin to glow, black magic flowing out of them into the skeleton, the chanting reaches its end and the skeleton drifts back towards the altar. It settles back down, its bones scraping against the rock.

Several of the necromancers collapse with exhaustion, those that remain stand with their eye glued to the altar, the shifting impatiently.

The Newly formed lich twitches; it slowly sits up and surveys its surroundings.

Cries of joy echo throughout the forest as the necromancers congratulate each other, shaking hands and patting each other on the back.

No of them notice the lich standing up, a fierce red glow coming from the place where its eyes had once been. The thing that had once been Grim stares at its skeletal body, it tries to remember the life that had been taken from it, but comes up blank.

Anger bubbles up inside of it, shadows curling around its fists.

"Why." It croaks its voice full of pain.

The necromancers all stop and stare at it, stunned. It shouldn't be able to talk this early on.

Tannis steps forward "It talks, looks like it isn't as stupid as the man it once was."

"Why." It says again, a little more forceful this time.

"Why what?" asks Tannis.

The lich tilts its skull to the side as if pondering an answer "Why have you done this to me?"

"What does it matter, you exist to serve us now, and you can start by fetching us some food. I'm starving."

The lich stands immobile for about a minute, then it turns its empty gaze onto to Tannis

"No" it growls

"Excuse me." Says Tannis looking shocked.

"I said no." snarls the lich.

Tannis storms up to it and strikes, knocking it to the floor. "I am you master and you will do as I command."

The lich stands, the glow coming from its eye sockets turning black. It raises is arm and thrusts its palm towards Tannis. A pillar of darkness shoots out of the ground and pins him to a tree. He cries out in surprise and pain, his arms flailing wildly.

"What are you doing, let me go you freak."

The lich curls its hand into a fist, and the pillar turns sharp. It spears Tannis through the chest, his look of outrage turning to one of horror. The lich drops its arm down to its side and the pillar dissolves, letting Tannis fall to the ground. He tries to talk, but only manages a weak cough.

His body goes slack and he moves no more.

The other necromancers flee in terror, the ones still conscious are too weak to fight back.

The lich cuts them down, manipulating the shadows, slicing of heads with shadowy blades and shredding limbs with shards of darkness. In a few minutes the lich is the only one left standing.

It gazes around at the destruction it has caused, but feels no guilt, only sadness, because it knows that it will never be able to go back to the life it once had, and is doomed to spend the rest of its miserable existence alone.

POV: Grim

I cannot remember.

Whenever I try to think about who I once was, all I get is a couple of blurry images that I can't make out.

I need to focus. My name, what was my name?

They called me Grim, short for Grimslarkin, but that was not always my name.

It's all coming back to me now, they made me forget but now the spell is broken and I remember.

They took me from my home; I was only four years old. They attacked me and my family while we were out for a walk: My mum. My dad and me.

They killed them right in front of me, and then they wiped my memory, made me forget what they had done. I still can't remember my old name, who was I?

They brought me up as one of their own; with the mages college cracking down on necromancy they were in desperate need of new blood.

I have killed those who made into this…. thing, but there are still others. The ones who took me from my old life and brain washed me.

I remember, they made me do terrible things. I did not question it because they had gotten to me at a young age; the life of a necromancer was all I knew.

They tried to make me their servant, but I refuse to be used like some mindless zombie.

They have no idea what's coming, the other necromancers.

I will not let them go unpunished, with my new power, I will make them pay.

I am Grimslarkin, and I will have my revenge, even if it kills me….again.

**Authors note: And there's the first chapter**

**Since I've broken up for school I can update more regularly, HELL YEAH NO MORE SCHOOL FOR SIX WEEKS, **

**As always review and tell me what you think.**

**Fireprooflawyer 8)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Authors note: Its chapter two**

**Yay!**

**In this chapter we meet Mortis Koyle and Qwarrel Swift (Both Nords), and Grimslarkin discovers that his new appearance doesn't go too well with first impressions.**

**Thanks to UmbreonGodOfHalo for his review.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim or any of the other Elder scrolls games **

**Chapter 2: First impressions**

**Qwarrel's POV:**

My name is Qwarrel Swift; I'm a Scholar of sorts.

I travel around Skyrim looking for inspiration, or at least I used to before I joined up with Mortis.

I met him in a tavern, in solitude. I'd been sitting at a table in the corner, reading a book on the Dwemer: _Dwemer History and culture _by Hasphat Antabolis,when some drunken Nord had flopped down onto the seat next to me shaking the table and spilling my drink.

"Hello love," He'd said, his speech slurred "what's a pretty little thing like you doing in a tavern, there are some dodgy people around you know."

I could smell his breath and it wasn't pleasant, he was obviously drunk.

I scowled at him and leant away from him "I perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"You're a feisty lass aren't you, don't worry I'll take good care of you." He'd said, he'd reached out and grabbed my wrist, tugging me closer to him."

"Let go of me you brute." I'd hit him over the head with my book, but he'd just laughed and tried to kiss me.

And that's when Mortis turned up.

He was tall, with long black hair that ended just below his chin. He'd looked to be around thirty, his clothes were black and worn.

"Let the poor girl go Drodgir." He'd said his voice low.

The Nord, Drodgir had pushed me away and loomed over him, he was a good foot taller than him.

"Or what, you gonna make me?" Drodgir had said, getting right in his face.

Mortis had looked up at him, calm and collected, and simply said "Yes."

His fist had shot out, slamming his open palm into the Nords chest, he'd flew backwards into a wall and lay still, unconscious. It was over in moments.

After that we just started travelling together, I wanted to keep traveling around Skyrim and he had wanted to get away from his past.

And here we are.

I'm sat on a log, warming my hands by the campfire. Night had fallen, and predators stalk the forest, but I'm not worried. Mortis can handle anything the night throws at him, and I'm pretty fierce in a fight myself.

"You hungry?" asks Mortis sitting cross-legged to my right.

"Yeah, I could eat something." I reply "What are we having?"

Mortis reaches for his bag and starts rummaging through it.

"Well I've got some bread, and I managed to find some…" he suddenly tenses; he tilts his head to the side as he listens.

"What is it?" I ask, I can't hear anything unusual but Mortis's hearing has always been better than mine.

"Screaming." He listens for another minute, "That way." He says pointing to the east.

I look in the direction he's pointing, but it's too dark to see properly.

Mortis stands, he gathers his stuff, and waves his hand. The fire flickers and then goes out.

"Let's go check it out."

"Right." I nod and stand. We both make our way through the forest, not making a sound.

We come to a clearing and crouch down behind a clump of bushes. I peer out and take in our surroundings.

There's a crumbling ruin at the centre, and some king of altar. The ground seems to be covered in in something, but I can't make it out.

"It's too dark, I can't see anything." I whisper.

Mortis raises his hand, and a faint glow appears, it strengthens, forming a glowing ball.

A mage light.

I gasp as the area lights up, now I can see what's covering the ground.

Bodies, about twenty of them, some of them whole and others in pieces. The ground is soaked in blood and gore. What could have done this?

Mortis nudges me, I look at him and he points "Over there."

Next to the altar, stands someone. I look closer and see it's not a person but an honest to god skeleton. It's starring off into space, standing completely stull

"A lich." Mutters Mortis

"Which means those bodies are…"

"Necromancers."

I've known Mortis for about six months now, and I've learnt quite a bit about his past.

He was a Necromancer once, and a powerful one at that. "I did some things I'm not proud of." He once told me.

He told me he'd stopped being a Necromancer when his group had raided a small town. They'd just charged in and killed every one. And then they'd brought them all back as undead, they'd killed them all so they could have and army.

Mortis had refused to kill any one. The Necromancer leader had grabbed some random villager, a little girl, and told him to kill her. Mortis said no. The necromancers had threatened to kill him, and yet still he refused.

It was twelve necromancers, and 26 undead, and Mortis killed them all. The little girl hadn't survived, the leader, in his final moments had killed her. One final act of murder, he'd sliced her nearly in half. Mortis had buried the bodies of the villagers, and burned the bodies of the necromancers.

And that's why he travels with me, to try and escape his past. He's a good person, but he hates necromancers.

He stood up, moving towards the skeletal figure. I follow him, treading carefully so as not to step on the bodies. Mortis however doesn't bother; he kicks their heads as he passes them.

As we draw closer, the lich turns slowly to look at us. Its eye sockets glow red, and its bones are bleached white.

"What do you want." It asks. It has no lips, no vocal cords. But its jaw moves as it talks, its voice low.

"We want to know what happened here?" says Mortis, he gestures towards the bodies "did you do this."

"Yes"

"Why." I ask.

"They took my life from me. They killed my parents, and made me do horrible things. They turned me into this."

Mortis didn't say anything for a while, after about four minutes he says "How did you do this, if these are the necromancers that made you a Lich, you should be bound to their will?"

I notice the shadows around the Lich; they're constantly shifting, moving as if they have a life of their own.

"I don't know." It says, "Something must have gone wrong.

"Do you have a name?" I ask it.

It swivels its _head_ to look at me "I can't remember my real name, but the necromancer's called me Grim, short for Grimslarkin."

Bit of a strange name, but hey who am I to judge?

Mortis suddenly tenses, "Some ones coming." He hisses whirling around. I spin round; a group of three imperials are making their way towards us. The guy in the middle, the leader by the looks of him, is dressed in steel armour. The guys on either side of him are wearing leather armour.

They stop in front of us, the leader resting his hand on his sword handle.

"Well would you look at this, two strange looking people out at night, surrounded by a bunch of necromancer bodies; let's hear you talk you way out of this one." His voice is cold and void of emotion, the other two just stands there, glaring at us.

Two, can't he count. I turn to look at Grim, and find that he's not there, where the hell did he go.

Mortis looks the imperial up and down, probably analysing him, looking for the best way to take him out. "I don't suppose you'll listen to us if we tried, will you?"

The imperial grins.

"Nope." All three of them draw their swords.

"I thought not." Sighs Mortis, he waves his hand, and the mage light goes out, and so does the torch one of the imperials is carrying.

I hear the other imperials two imperials draw their swords, and Mortis disappears into the shadows.

He comes up behind the one on the right, and slams his palm into the back of his head. He's knocked to the ground, his eyes rolling back into his head.

Mortis grabs his fallen sword and brings it up in time to block a sword slash aimed at his throat; I throw myself at his attacker, the other soldier. I wrap my arms around his throat from behind, choking him. His eyes widen in surprise and he tries to throw me off. While he's distracted, Mortis batters his sword aside and slams the butt of his own weapon into his head. The imperial goes slack in my grip, out cold. I let him fall and turn to face the final enemy, only to find a sword at my throat.

"Anybody moves, and she dies." The imperial growls.

Mortis freezes, his eyes darting to look at something behind me. He slowly places his sword on the ground, and stands with his hands in the air.

What is he doing, is he giving up?

I'm almost knocked down as the imperial is jerked away from me, a skeletal arm wrapped around his throat.

Grim steps out of the shadows, barely visible in the dark. He throws the imperial to the ground, kicking his sword away.

"I'd stay down if I were you; this guys a cold blooded killer." Mortis says, "He's the one that killed all these people."

The imperial turns white as a sheet, "It's….. It's a skeleton." He whimpers, trembling.

"That's right, and he's got some pretty bad anger issues." Mortis hauls the shaking man to his feet and pushes him away. "So you better run, before he kills you too."

The imperial turns and flees off into the night, screaming like a banshee.

"Well that was interesting." Mutters Mortis, he turns to Grim, "Nice work on that sneak attack, saved our skin there."

"At least you have skin." Replies Grim, a hint of humour in his voice. (Insert funny bone joke here)

Who knew, skeletons can be funny.

Looks like we're getting caught up in some crazy adventure.

Again…..

**And there's chapter two, in all its awesome glory.**

**Took me a while but it's done**

**A Skeleton with a sense of humour sounds like Skulduggery Pleasant. **

**As always review and tell me what you think**

**See yah next time.**

**Fireprooflawyer 8)**


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